


here comes the bride (and a whole lot of trouble)

by goforth



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Slow Burn, jughead is not ace/aro in this, literally just a fic about misunderstandings and cake, with a little UST thrown in
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-19 11:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11312778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goforth/pseuds/goforth
Summary: All twenty-eight year old wedding planner Betty Cooper needs is one big wedding to prove to her overbearing parents (and herself) that her business is worth it. When a blast-from-the-past in the form of the newly engaged Veronica Lodge offers just that, Betty is expecting her luck to turn around in no time.What she isn't expecting, however, is to fall in love with the brooding groom-to-be.This definitely wasn't covered in her Wedding Planning for Dummies book.





	1. step one

**Author's Note:**

> Context: Betty, Veronica, Archie and Jughead are all in their late twenties. They all went to high school together but were far from the Core Four we all know and love today. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Riverdale, unfortunately.

  **Step one** : Start with a wedding binder or folder.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

When Betty Cooper’s assistant walks into her small office ten minutes early with a large low-fat caramel macchiato in hand, she instantly knows something is up.

The coffee, she assumes, is for her; it’s her Special Occasions drink, the one she gets when she’s feeling particularly _zesty_ , like she deserves a treat, and ever since Kevin attended one of those life seminars—which, Betty must add, she told him would absolutely not be worth it, because, well, it was called _Designing Your Life in a Millennial World_ , and how cheesy is that?—he’s sworn off anything that isn’t a kale juice smoothie.

It turns out that her assumption is correct.

“Good morning Boss,” he greets her in a singsong kind of way. The coffee is set on her desk, right next to her too-old Macbook, and Betty eyes it suspiciously. “Did you sleep well? How’s Caramel’s infection?”

Betty’s considering answering him ( _no_ , she didn’t sleep well, and her cat doesn’t have an infection, just a little _rash_ , and now she’s got scratches on her arms from trying to apply the ointment and she’s in a _mood_ ) before deciding to ignore his questions. “Why the coffee, Kevin?” She takes a long sip from it, relishing the hot liquid as it rushes down her throat. “Is this a ‘sorry I botched the Llweyn floral order last week’ coffee?”

Her assistant has the decency to look embarrassed for a moment, but it quickly passes as he plops himself onto her desk. He flicks his wrist in a sort of _pish-posh_ way. “I told you, Kara at Happy Petals agreed to rush-order a new bouquet of the tulips, so you can’t hold that against me anymore.” If he sees the way Betty’s eyes narrow at his flippant tone, he doesn’t seem bothered by it. “No, I have news that’s going to make all of your incessant worrying go away.”

Betty, feeling a sudden headache coming on, sighs and presses a hand to her to her cheek. Her parents had warned her about hiring a good friend from college to be her assistant, but Kevin was everything Betty needed at her side: loyal, hardworking, and _seriously_ in-touch with what trends were winners and what would be gone in a month. The trade off was, of course, that he often took things with a kind of _blasé_ attitude because he knew Betty would never have the heart to fire him.

When Betty had decided to drop her law school degree with two years left of classes and start her life over as a wedding planner six years ago, it had seemed like a refreshingly wonderful change of pace. A chance to start over and be who _she_ wanted to be, instead of live the life her parents wanted for her. They, of course, had been less than pleased—it had taken Betty a total of thirteen months to finish up her damage control—but had eventually loaned her the money she needed, under the condition that she would pay them back with some _serious interest_ in five years.

It’s now creeping up to seven and Betty is nowhere _close_ to paying them back.

“Um, Earth to boss? Do you read me? I need your full attention when I tell you the amazing news I have. And I need to tell you soon before your one o’clock.”

Betty’s attention snaps back to Kevin, her eyebrows furrowing. “One o’clock? I thought I wasn’t meeting with the Llewyns until four!” A small panic settles in the pit of her stomach as she scrambles for her day-planner. Betty Cooper has _never_ missed an appointment, or been unprepared for one, and she can’t start now. Not when her parents are getting closer and closer to cutting her off everyday.

“ _Betty_ ,” Kevin says with a chuckle, placing a hand on hers, attempting to steady it. “You didn’t miss an appointment, so take a deep breath and another sip of that coffee.” She obeys, eyeing him warily, and he takes it as a sign to continue.

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. The one o’clock is a new client, one that can really turn things around for us. Last night I was at that new bar down in Soho, the one right next to Dash? Anyway, so I’m sitting there next to this _total_ Audrey Hepburn meets Winona Ryder vis a vis Johnny Depp wannabee and we start talking about the Cosmopolitan she ordered when she _should_ have ordered the Appletini—”

“ _Kevin_...”

“And anyway, it turns out that not _only_ did she just get engaged, but she _totally_ knows you from high school! So I start talking you up, telling her how amazing you were with the Hopkins-Phoenix wedding last year, and long story short, she wants you to plan her wedding!”

It’s a lot for Betty to process. She stares at her assistant, who’s looking as wide-eyed and bushy-tailed as ever, and tries to think about what he’s told her. Something snags her mind and she gives him a skeptic look.

“She says she knows me from high school? Who is it?” Her hands cup the warm drink, telling herself to slow down. The last thing Betty needs is to be buzzing with coffee when she meets with the overbearing mother-in-law of the wedding that’s just around the corner.

Kevin’s smiling brightly at her as he says, “Veronica Lodge. She claims it’s going to be the biggest wedding of the year, and before you say anything; yes, it might be challenging, considering we’ve never planned anything over one fifty for guests, but this will be so good for us, Betts.”

Betty doesn’t hear anything past “she.” Her head gets a little dizzy as she freezes, a flashback hitting her with full force.

_Veronica and Archie, lips swollen and hair mussed and messy, walk out of the small closet with matching, guilty looks. Betty, aged fifteen, not being there to see it, already halfway to her house, angry and embarrassed tears falling past her cheeks. Stupid, she thinks, reaching up to brush them away. Stupid, stupid, stupid..._

“Okay, why am I getting the feeling that you’re not over-the-moon ecstatic for this?” She hears Kevin’s voice as it cuts through her daydream, though it feels far away. “Have you forgotten the wrath of Alice Cooper already? Come on, Betts, this’ll be _so good_ for Elizabeth Cooper Special Events that even your _mom_ won’t have anything bad to say about it...”

“I’m not doing it, Kev.” Her voice cracks and her hands are shaking as she attempts to turn back to her day-planner. _4:30pm meeting with Regina Llewyn, 7pm meeting with Polly, 9:30pm barre class..._

A perfectly manicured hand slaps against the paper in front of her. “I’m sorry, maybe you didn’t hear me right. Veronica Lodge, as in _heiress to the Lodge Empire_ , wants us to _plan her wedding_.”

“I’m perfectly aware of who she is, Kevin.” Betty’s voice is sharp as she tugs the planner out from under his hand. “And I’m not doing it. Like she said, we knew each other in high school. But maybe what she _didn’t_ tell you is that we did not get along in high school. We were friends until she...” She shakes her head and closes her eyes, taking a slow breath that passes through her nostrils before continuing. “Until we weren’t. We didn’t end things well, Kev. I can’t plan her wedding.”

Betty assumes, with a pang in her heart, that it’s Archie’s wedding, too. She remembers the way he was looking at Veronica in her profile picture two years ago. That was the last time Betty had ever virtually stalked her former friend, vowing to save herself any more unnecessary heartbreak.

“Betty, come on. I’m sure whatever she did to you wasn’t so bad that you can’t forgive and forget. It’s been _ten_ years, for Christ’s sake! And you need this. _We_ need this.”

They both know Betty doesn’t need the reminder. She casts her eyes down to her laptop, which is open to a spreadsheet highlighting this month’s numbers. They’re spreading themselves on some very, _very_ thin ice.

 _Still_ , she argues in her mind, surely _they can find some other high profile wedding to save the business. Probably nothing as large scale as a Lodge wedding, but_ still _..._

As if reading her thoughts, Kevin speaks again. “Look, I’m all for grudges and hating high-school mean girls. And if this offer was coming ten years from now I might have told you to say ‘fuck it’ and pass it up. But you know as well as I do that we need something big to get your parents off your back and keep this place afloat. C’mon, Betts. At least meet with her. Maybe she isn’t so bad now,” he offers.

Betty opens her mouth and then promptly closes it. Because the thing is—as much as she doesn’t want to admit it—Kevin’s _right_. She can’t afford to keep up old grudges. She can’t afford any casualties or mistakes or passed opportunities. And though she’s certain she and Veronica Lodge will never be buddy-buddy again, she supposes, with a heavy sigh, there’s no harm in meeting with her.

Because, well, Hiram Lodge is _really_ rich, and Betty’s mouth is practically watering at the thought of Veronica’s budget.

“Fine,” she finally resigns, twisting the elastic band that sits on her pale wrists. She snaps it lightly, relishing the sting. “I’ll go. _But_ ,” she quickly warns at the sight of Kevin’s growing eagerness, “I’m not making any promises.”

He smiles triumphantly and crosses over to his desk, silently congratulating himself on a job well done. It’s then that Betty asks the question that’s been nagging her since he told her that Veronica Lodge was tying the knot.

“Did... Did Veronica say who she’s marrying?” It was her original plan to sound nonchalant, but even Betty can’t ignore the crack in her voice.

“I’m not actually sure what the guy’s name is, but it’s pretty weird. Something with a J... I almost peed myself laughing when I heard it.”

Betty frowns, thinking Kevin must be wrong, but dismisses the thought in favor of preparing her Potential Bride Folder.

.

.

.

Kevin plugs the address to a new Ethiopian-Vegan restaurant in the Upper West Side into Betty’s phone, claiming it was the blushing bride-to-be’s idea, and she thinks, with a hint of irony, that there is _no way_ Veronica Lodge has changed since high school.

It’s a decent twenty-minute train ride from Betty’s office and she takes the break with open arms. After Kevin’s excitable announcement— _I just knew that you would end up taking it so I already set up the appointment for you and it was a totally correct assumption so stop looking at me like that, Copper, and tell me what I need to know so I can meet up with Regina for you_ —Betty had worked on prepping him for her four o’clock in the event that her meeting with Veronica would run late.

Which, if high school Veronica taught her anything, is entirely plausible.

Five minutes before she reaches her stop, Betty starts to get nervous. It’s been a while since she’s seen anyone from Riverdale High, much less her once-best-friend-turned-enemy. She wonders if Veronica will try and bring it up, or even remember, or if the life of a Lodge is much too busy and important to remember petty things from high school.

It turns out to be the former.

The restaurant turns out to be a fairly small brick building tucked in between high-profile clothing stores, and Betty knows instantly that she won’t be able to afford a water here, much less a meal. She makes a mental note to just have an appetizer and duck into the sandwich shop she passed on the way out from the subway station on the way home.

She isn’t sure what to tell the hostess when she gets to the stand—should she say Cooper or Lodge? The man purses his lips as she stutters, thinking of just calling Veronica, before realizing she doesn’t have the girl’s number anymore.

Two seconds later, just as she’s about to profusely apologize to the annoyed-looking hostess, Betty hears her name.

“Betty Cooper!”

She slowly turns to see none other than Veronica Lodge, in all her heiress glory, sitting in the middle of the restaurant like she owns the place. Betty notes that there’s a good chance she does.

After flashing a quick, apologetic smile to the man—who, for the record, looks as though he cannot _believe_ someone like her is sitting with someone like Veronica and, really, Betty can’t blame him—she heads over to where Veronica is smile brightly at her, as though they’re old friends. She stands up and Betty instantly feels underdressed. Her old button down and faded tweed skirt look like hand-me-downs when compared to Veronica’s chic black a-line dress, accompanied by her traditional string of pearls.

Looks like some things will never change.

“Veronica,” she mutters with a tight smile, eyes going wide as the other girl pulls her in for a tight smile and kisses her cheek. “It’s been quite some time. Congratulations.” Her eyes flicker to the diamond that’s sitting on Veronica’s hand as they sit down, noting, with a hint of intrigue, it’s relative modesty.

“Betty Cooper, as I live and _breathe_! It has been _much_ too long, but let me say that you look just as beautiful as you did back in high school.” Veronica’s dazzling smile drops just a hint before her face takes on a new, somber look.

Betty realizes that she must have pulled a face. She silently curses herself for constantly wearing her heart on her sleeve and makes a note to work on her poker face. “I must say I was surprised when my assistant said you wanted to meet up,” she admits, attempting at a friendlier smile. Even she knows that it falls flat.

“Oh, Betty, the moment Kevin mentioned that you were working in town as a wedding planner I just _knew_ I had to hire you. I was a downright _witch_ to you back then. I think about that night all the time with the fullest of regrets...” Betty winces at the mention of the party all those nights ago and, for the first time, feels kind of silly for holding it against her. Because if this speech had been coming from anyone else, Betty would have laughed at the authenticity. But it's just coming from just anyone, it's coming from _Veronica Lodge_ , and that used to mean the world to her former self. “I know you have no reason to, but I would _really_ love it if you could find it in your heart to forgive me and help me plan my wedding. We worked so well together back then, don’t you think?”

And then Veronica Lodge is taking Betty’s hand in hers, looking so sincere Betty feels her heart crack with nostalgia. All at once she sees visions of her and Veronica getting ready for cheer practice together, giggling over whatever antics Cheryl was in that day, and feels her grudge, and anger, melt away.

Because, after all, she is Perfect Betty Cooper, even now, and Perfect Betty Cooper always forgives.

Even if it takes her twelve years.

“Of course I would love to plan your wedding, V.” She squeezes Veronica’s hand and can’t help but smile back when the girl beams at her.

“Oh, this is going to be so much _fun_! I was looking through the photos of your past weddings on the website and I just know you’re going to do a fabulous job. Of course, I have to talk to Jug too, but I’m sure he’ll agree! What, with you guys having been besties before...”

“Wait, what?”

 _I’m officially losing it_ , Betty thinks to herself, eyes wide and mouth slightly hanging open. There’s no way Veronica could have said... “Did you just say Jug? As in _Jughead Jones_?”

Veronica’s smile falters for just a moment, so quickly Betty thinks she might have imagined that, too, before returning to it’s normal 100-wattage. “Why yes, silly! Didn’t Kevin tell you I was going to be Mrs. Veronica Jones?”

No, Kevin hadn’t told her. She thinks back to the comment he had made about the name of the groom: _“It’s pretty weird.”_ That’s what he had said and Betty, sure that Veronica was going to marry her high school sweetheart, had quickly dismissed it.

Jughead Jones? And _Veronica_?

“But what about Archie?”

The words are out of Betty’s mouth before she can even truly register them, and her eyes go wide at her outburst as Veronica flushes. “V, I’m so sorry, ignore me...”

“No, it’s alright,” the heiress adds, trying her best to see as cheery as before. Betty supposes it might have worked on someone else, but she can see the cracks in Veronica’s smile. “Archie and I... went our separate ways last year, shall we say. I was positively _heartbroken_ , I won’t lie, but Juggiekins was really there for me. Oh, Betts, he was so _good_ and kind! At first it was just the occasional checking up on me to see if I was okay and then that led into weekly dinners and then one thing led to another and then... Well, here we are!”

If they were still friends in high school, wide-eyed and excited about the world and Homecoming, Betty might have guessed something was off. But they’re not in high school, and Betty hasn’t known the girl in years, and perhaps she’s a little rusty on all things Veronica.

So she lets the moment go, thankful for the pretty girl with dark skin and large gages in her ears that comes and takes their order. Veronica expertly orders something for them that Betty doesn’t really understand, but she’s thankful in any case, fully aware she would have made a fool of herself if she had been expected to order something. A beat later she realizes that Veronica must have ordered something expensive, but she pushes the thought away, figuring she can spare some extra cash.

Maybe she'll just include it in her expenses.

“Ten months,” Veronica answers once the waitress heads to the kitchen and Betty asks when the wedding is. She must see the look on Betty’s face when she answers because she flushes slightly and picks at an invisible piece of lint on her dress. “It’s a little quick, I know, but Daddy _really_ wants to see me get married before he has to go to Brazil for two years for business. And besides,” she adds, taking the moment to grab Betty’s hand again, “if anyone can pull it off, Betty Cooper, it’s you.”

Betty feels warm at the compliment and again squeezes Veronica’s hand lightly. However, the nagging at the back of her brain picks back up again, and she glances warily at her newly reunited friend. “That’s great and everything, V, but... Don’t you have to ask Jughead first?”

Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, Betty’s reminded of the very last time she saw Jughead Jones. It was their graduation day, and while everyone else was appropriately excited, Jughead was, as usual, brooding.

_“Turn that frown upside, Caulfield,” she jokes teasingly, her elbow jabbing at his sides. They’re not exactly friends, haven’t been since middle school days, but it’s the last day of high school and she’s feeling particularly cheery. “We’re officially ridding ourselves of high school today!”_

_He only nods in acknowledgment, eyes staring straight ahead. “Oh, I’m sorry, I was under the impression that this was just a very large birthday party for Principal Weatherbee.”_

_Betty rolls her eyes and turns on her side, letting her shoulder rest against the wall he’s coolly leaning against. Like a proper coming-of-age heartthrob. “C’mon, Jug. Even you can’t pretend this isn’t a great day for the class of 2021.”_

_“Actually, Betty, I can.” He turns to look at her, and any pre-conceived notion Betty Cooper has about this conversation being a pleasant one flees. “Because while this might be great for the_ perfect _Betty Cooper, there are those less fortunate that have no idea what the_ fuck _they’re going to do once they leave this place, and that's reason enough to be kind of pessimistic about the future. Don't you think? Or have you forgotten what it's like to be on the other side already?”_

_That seems to shut her up for a moment, and the challenging look that’s in Jughead’s eyes quickly turns to tired and mild disappointment. “Thought so,” he mumbles, pushing himself off the wall with a sigh._

_“Jug, I—” But he’s already gone by the time she speaks, disappearing into the crowd of black and white gowns and jumping graduation caps._

The last Betty heard, he was sporting the type of leather jacket she’d only heard whispers about on her side of Riverdale.

“Leave Juggiekins to me,” Veronica singsongs in the form of a response, snapping Betty from her thoughts.

 _The past_ , she reasons with herself, _deserves to stay in the past_.

Besides. If she can forgive Veronica for breaking her heart all those years ago, who says Jughead can’t put the past behind him too?

“Alright then, V. Let the wedding planning begin.”

 

 

 

 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, literally two days after posting a work in progress, this fic came into my brain and wouldn't go away. i'm super excited about and i hope you are too! don't be discouraged by the lack of bughead in this first chapter, i promise they'll show up in the next one and it'll be worth the wait. ;)
> 
> also, with this fic, it's important to remember that not everything is as they seem. any ooc-ness is intentional!
> 
> comments and feedback are welcome, encouraged, and loved. i don't have a beta so mistakes are evident, feel free to point any out!


	2. step six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boy meets girl at the wedding venue locations. Boy broods, girl gets annoyed. Girl gets drunk, boy is amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for drug abuse. It's mentioned briefly but it is there.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Riverdale, unfortunately.

**Step six** : Reserve your dates and venues.

 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

 

Approximately seventy-two hours after Betty Cooper agrees to plan Veronica Lodge’s wedding, she desperately wishes she hadn’t. 

This is because approximately sixty-eight hours after Betty Cooper agrees to plan Veronica Lodge’s wedding, she reunites with Jughead Jones.

.

.

.

“I’m _so_ sorry B,” Veronica had pleaded to her on the phone earlier that morning (before, she might add, Betty even got the chance to have her morning coffee), “But I have a crisis in Barcelona—Daddy stuff, you know how it goes—and I’m not going to be able to meet you for the venue checks. But don’t worry, I’m sending Juggiekins over! If he gives you a hard time just remind him that I know where he sleeps.”

Betty, having wanted to respond to some things—such as telling Veronica that no, she _doesn’t_ know how “Daddy stuff goes” and that sending her fiancé in her place didn’t make up for absence—had been instead forced to assure her friend-turned-client that yep, that was a-okay and to _have fun in Barcelona!_ and to promise updates when she got back.

In hindsight, Betty probably could—and _should_ —have just gone alone. Instead, she’d texted Jughead an address and a time to meet her, somehow knowing his number hadn’t changed.

And therein the downfall begins.

. 

.

.

Four hours after the phone call with Veronica, Betty’s standing outside the first venue location, waiting for Jughead Jones to show up and effectively, at least for nine months, reenter her life.

To say that Betty is stumped over Veronica’s choice for the ceremony is an understatement.

It’s not unusual for brides to want their ceremony to take place in a church, even with the sudden obsession over “avant-garde ceremony locations” that have been dominating Pinterest boards. But it is—or, at least, _was supposed to be_ —an unusual choice for Veronica. In high school, during those particularly fun sleepovers when they would gush over what their future weddings were going to look like, long before Betty knew she wanted to plan them and before Veronica knew she was going to be marrying the boy she often argued with over the last French fry in a Pop’s booth, Veronica would grandly announce that _her_ wedding would be somewhere so brand-new and out-of-the-box that people would be talking about it for decades after.

“I’m talking middle of Central Park, right _smack-dab_ in the middle, so that everyone who walks by will _have_ to be part of the wedding,” Veronica used to announce matter-of-factly. “Or maybe we’ll rent out the entire aquarium and get married next to the sea lions.”

 _The bigger, the better._ That had been Veronica’s motto in high school, and Betty was so _sure_ that, while many things had changed, that wasn’t going to.

And yet, here she is, standing on 5th Avenue, right in front of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, waiting to lock in the reservation Hiram Lodge had somehow managed to score for his only daughter’s June wedding.

(One of Betty’s previous brides, Ashley Fenderson, had wanted to be married in St. Patrick’s. It had been a three-year waiting list, and Betty had been tasked with gently putting Ashley’s childhood dreams to rest and suggesting a different church on Riverside Drive that was _just_ as lovely.)

(Of course, Doug Fenderson was no Hiram Lodge.) 

Betty double-checks her watch to confirm that, yes, Jughead is late, and taps her foot against the pavement. They have to be out of this appointment by one thirty so that they can check out the venue where the reception will be held—which is closer to the type of venue Betty always imagined Veronica in, but it’s still far from the dreams she used to know—and it’s already edging close to one. 

If there’s one thing Betty hates, it’s tardiness.

Just as she’s about to pull out her phone to give Jughead both a call _and_ a piece of her mind, a flash of dark grey, in the shape of both a beanie and a crown, turns the corner.

And Betty, for one moment of incredible weakness, seems stops breathing. 

His gaze is cast down at his feet as he walks, his face only half-visible. The signature beanie that always had her perplexed in high school is still adorning his head, and she realizes, once she takes in his outfit, that he hasn’t changed much at all appearance wise. He’s still wearing a problematic number of layers for early September in New York, including a shiny leather jacket, a flash of bright blue plaid tied around his waist, and a white t-shirt that’s managing to peak through. (She’s half-expecting a dark ‘S’ to be etched on it, but it’s unmistakably plain.) His jeans are skin-tight, as though they’ve been painted on, and his combat boots are hitting against the pavement in such a loud way that Betty swears she can hear it from where she’s standing.

It’s only about thirty seconds before he’s standing in front of her, a seemingly bored expression already on his face, but to Betty, it seems like a lifetime.

“Jughead Jones,” she manages to croak out. Her eyes sweep over his facial features now that they’re up close; she takes in his jawline, his eye color, his impossibly long eyelashes, his freckles. She allows herself one moment to note how good time has been to him (because, although she doesn’t quite want to admit it, time has been _very_ good to him), and then she’s back to reality.

“Betty Cooper, as I live and breathe.”

Her eyes snap from the place between his neck and his collarbone she’d _somehow_ gotten transfixed on to his smug grin. It’s exactly what Veronica had said to her, though Betty notes that his tone is a little less genuine than hers had been.

She tries her best not to scowl.

“It’s been a long time,” she offers, sticking her hand out between them, her best Wedding Planner Smile planted on her face. “Congratulations!”

He stares at her hand as though he’s not sure what to do with it and then looks back up at her. For some reason Betty can’t quite understand, her cheeks flush under his gaze. “Right.” One eyebrow is raised as he nods at her, his hands staying stuffed in his pockets. “Let’s just get this over with, yeah? I’ve got a deadline.”

Betty’s face is burning as she drops her hand as quickly as she raised it, realizing that he’s not going to shake it. She stares at him for a moment, trying to figure out _what_ his problem is, before nodding curtly. It’s not new for a groom to be less than interested in dealing with the wedding plans, but, well, there’s usually _some_ excitement. 

And then there’s also the fact that Betty hasn’t seen him in over ten years. She hadn’t been expecting the level of reaction Veronica had given her, but she’d expecting something a little better than a _let’s get this over with._

She chalks it up to dread over wedding planning—most guys spend five minutes doing their best to convince her of their still-in-tact masculinity—and tries not to take it personally.

“It shouldn’t be too long,” she exclaims with a sunny-sweet disposition as she turns towards the church. “And it’s nice to see you again too.” 

She can barely hear his scoff as she pushes inside, willing the appointment to go by as seamlessly as possible.

.

.

.

St. Patrick’s Cathedral might be an old-as-dirt church, but it’s _anything_ but traditional.

Betty understands in an instant why Veronica wants to get married here: it’s Neo-Gothic architecture reminds Betty of fairytales and dreams and poetry that can never be written. It’s high ceilings, washed in a glow of soft white light, adorned with stained-glass windows and intricate light features, offer an acoustic quality that Betty knows will be great for organ music and wedding vows. The sanctuary, where Veronica and Jughead will say their “I Dos”, is covered by an arch made of pure gold, and the walkway, which would certainly serve as the aisle, is fit for any princess to walk down graciously to meet her husband.

It is, in short, nothing less than perfect. 

Betty manages to quit her drooling long enough to confirm the reservation date. It’s set for a June wedding, and though the Bishop warns of heavy heat and stuffy air, Betty knows it will be just perfect.

They’re told to wait for the remaining paperwork and Betty takes the moment to corner Jughead. He’d spent the entire conversation with the Bishop walking around, leaving Betty to wonder why he’d even bother to come at all. She’s about to tell him to just go home if he’s not going to be of any help (in nicer terms, of course, because he’s still a client) when her eyes catch sight of a packet sticking out from his back pocket.

(And no, that _doesn’t_ mean she’s checking out his butt, thank you very much.)

Betty assumes—with just a bit of blind hope—that it’s the guest list she’d asked them to complete. She needs a solid head count before she can go much further with the planning.

“Veronica mentioned something about you guys having completed the guest list,” she mutters as she crosses over to him. He turns to look at her as though he’d forgotten she was there, his eyes glassy and his expression far away. It takes him a moment to shake whatever he’d been thinking out and he nods, pulling the packet from his pocket to set in her hands.

“There you go. That’s our list of names. All three thousand of them.”

She gives him a quizzical look, as though she can’t tell detect his sarcasm, before taking it from him. Their hands brush briefly and Betty tries to push any cliché thought about sparks out of her mind. “Thanks.”

He nods once, then twice, and turns to walk towards the pew next to them.

Her eyes scan the list, watching from the corner of her eye as he paces restlessly. He’s now distracted himself by toying with the deep red velvet curtains near the baptistery and she has to stop herself from telling him to just _leave it alone_. Because even Betty can tell he’s just distracted by something, something that had entered his mind within the last twenty minutes. She considers asking him what’s got him so distracted before deciding that, really, she doesn’t care.

 _Focus, Cooper,_ she urges herself as she clutches the guest list in her hands. Veronica’s picks are first, taking up the majority of the packet (Betty can only assume, anyway), and it all seems pretty standard. She’s listed her maid of honor as a name Betty recognizes from high school—Cheryl Blosson; who had, of course, been the leader of the Riverdale Vixens and often the Mean Girl to Betty’s Shy Girl, reinforcing _every_ damned high school cliché in the book—and three other bridesmaids, two of which she recognizes vaguely. Then it’s regular guests, which Betty concludes to be full of the usual: friends, friends of those friends, fellow socialites, family members, etc.

All standard and glamorous picks, Betty notes gratefully. Though Veronica’s half is already shaping the guest list up to be far more than Betty’s used to handling—Veronica’s got two hundred, at _least,_ listed—it’s refreshing to work with someone who knows who, and what, they want. 

Of course, Betty knows she really shouldn’t have expected anything less from a Lodge.

She casts a side-glance at Jughead as she turns the pages of the packet, looking for the start of his list. She isn’t sure what she’s expecting. Ten years ago Betty would have pegged a small looking list filled with exactly three people: His dad (assuming, of course, he hadn’t been... somewhere else at the time), his sister, and Archie Andrews. Of course, that had been ten years ago, and Betty can’t pinpoint just how much he’s changed.

Of course, his choices consist of a little more than three names, but it’s the size she’d mostly been expecting: a single page of about thirty names. Almost right away, however, she notices something she _hadn’t_ been expecting.

“You don’t have a best man,” she states, a frown etching onto her features. It’s not a question—there’s no doubt that he hasn’t chosen anyone—but Jughead turns to look at her as though he’s expected to say something.

And he does, albeit with a bored expression and a shrug. “Didn’t really see a need for one. I think the whole notion is stupid and archaic. If I don’t intend on having a bachelor party, then what would I need a best man for, really? Maybe just so I can force someone else to be miserable with me through this process. But, in that case, my only conceivable option is somehow both the ex of the bride _and_ currently indisposed, so I figured I’d ixnay that disaster.”

He’s talking about Archie, obviously, but Betty’s frown turns into a confused expression.

“What do you mean by ‘indisposed?’”

“You mean you didn’t hear?” Jughead’s looking at her with a sort of incredulous look and Betty has to note, bitterly, that it’s the first time he’s looked at her with an expression other than boredom or indifference. And what’s more than that, he’s almost looking _proud_ , as though knowing something she doesn’t means he’s finally won a game they’ve been secretly playing for twenty years.

“No, Jughead,” she says with a tired sigh. “I haven’t heard anything from or about Archie in over two years.”

He looks gleefully _smug_ , and Betty rolls her eyes. “I can’t believe the all-knowingly Betty Cooper didn’t hear about Golden Boy Archie Andrew’s tragic fall from grace. This is a truly great moment in my life and, oh, I’ll just say it, my whole career, too.”

“Just tell me what happened to Archie.” Her tone is exasperated and he seems to notice, though he again, chooses to ignore it, instead looking at her with that damned smirk.

And then, suddenly, Jughead starts to look _uncomfortable_. His body tenses up and he seems to be preoccupied with the hem of his jacket. She gets the feeling that, in a moment of wanting to gain an upper hand, he’d opened a door he never intended on having to cross through. Betty’s about to give up and just make a mental note to check Facebook later when he speaks up.

“Newgrove Pines Rehabilitation Center,” he mutters, not quite meeting her eye. “Got checked in about two weeks after he and Veronica ended things. Coke addiction. ‘Supposed to be released within six months from now, but Hiram doesn’t think it’d be ‘good for the wedding’ if he was there. ‘S all he ever really talks about these days.” Then he’s laughing—a deep, bitter, mirthless sound—and Betty feels her heart crack. “The only thing my future father-in-law and I have in common is my best friend’s drug addiction, and even that we can’t seem to get an agreeing stance on.”

He says ‘father-in-law’ like it’s a disease but Betty chooses to ignore it. Instead all she can seem to think about is the boy-next-door, trapped in a terrifying place, constantly being told that he’s a problem they’re going to spend at least six months fixing.

“Oh, _poor_ Archie.”

Jughead looks up at her then, an incredulous expression crossing his features.  
  
“What?” She asks, feeling self-conscious under his gaze. 

He shakes his head, almost to himself, before speaking. “Nothing. Just that, of all the possible reactions, Betty Cooper chooses to feel bad for Archie the Drug Addict.

Then, after a pause, he adds, “You haven’t changed one bit.”

The way he says it, Betty isn’t sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing.

So instead of responding, she finally just says,

“So what about JB?”

The defensive quality to his turned expression immediately throws Betty for a loop. And he’s now looking, she realizes in horror, almost _angry_. “What _about_ JB? What, you think that my sister fulfilled some kind of Jones Family Prophecy and ended up in rehab, too?”

Realizing her mistake, Betty shakes her head quickly and, as almost on instinct, reaches out to touch his arm. Suddenly they’re sixteen again, misunderstanding each other and angry at the world. “No, Jug, I just meant—” She stops when she sees his wide-eyed gaze and immediately pulls back her hand. Then, for good measure, she takes a step back, watching as relief seems to unclench his body. “I just meant, what about JB for your best man?”

“Oh.” Betty can see the embarrassment—and maybe regret?—on his face, but if he wants to apologize, he doesn’t. “Veronica wants to ask her to be a bridesmaid, so I listed her as a guest for now.”

Betty nods, unsure of what to say.

Then, after a moment of silence, he’s talking again. “I’m surprised you remember JB. I thought you would have forgotten all about how the other half lives the second you got out of Riverdale.”

Perhaps he’d meant it as a joke. Perhaps it’d been his way of opening the door of “getting to catch up” conversation. Perhaps it hadn’t been a dig.

Or, perhaps, Jughead Jones’ personality hadn’t changed at all either.

“You gave up the right to say those kinds of things to me when you put a ring on Veronica Lodge’s finger,” she’d shot back in (what she’d hoped to be) a cool, unbothered sort of way.

There’s a beat of silence. A whistle of a sharp exhale through Jughead’s lips. And then, “Seems like a pretty cynical thing for a wedding planner to say.”

He’s deflecting and Betty knows it. She sighs softly as she meets his eyes, shrugging slightly. He’s right—of course he’s right, because even under these special circumstances she’s _working_ —but he’s managing to push some of her buttons and she’s losing control. “It’s not everyday you’re planning a wedding for former friends of Riverdale’s past. I consider these to be special circumstances.”

She watches as Jughead opens his mouth and closes it. His lips smack together in a hard, thin line, and she gets the impression that the conversation is over.

As if saved by the bell, the paperwork arrives and they’re out of the church without another word. They don’t talk as they wait for an Uber; they don’t talk as they cross Midtown to the hotel ballroom Veronica’s chosen for the reception; and they don’t talk as they get inside. Betty knows it’s a golden opportunity to go through her mental checklist for the wedding that’s fast-approaching, but all she can think about is the feeling of having Jughead Jones near her again.

 _You haven’t changed one bit_ , he had told her. Betty wonders just how true that is. She likes to think she’d changed a lot since high school; she’d managed, at least on some degree, to stop saying yes to everything in an attempt to please people. She’d become less focused on her appearance and learned how to ask for help. She’d become more independent, more assured, more in _control_ of her life.

And anyway, what does Jughead Jones know?

 _Nothing_ , she thinks decidedly, and forces herself to think about floral arrangements for the rest of the ride to the location for the reception.

.

. 

.

“He’s _insufferable!_ ”

Five hours after what Betty can only describe as The Disaster Meeting, she’s sitting at a bar ten blocks from her apartment, nursing her second Long Island Iced Tea. It’s not usually her thing to go out for drinks on a Thursday, especially when she’s got a wedding coming up in less than two weeks, but desperate times, she’d decided, call for desperate measures. So she’d called up Kevin and their friend Ethel, who was the best caterer Betty had ever met, to meet up for some alcohol and a serious venting session.

Once they had reached the Guastavino’s Ballroom, any reservations Jughead had previously had seemed to fly out the window. He’d been disagreeable, snarky, and downright _rude_ at times, asking every conceivably _unnecessary_ question in the book. Things like; _where will we ever find room to put our three giraffes? They’re quite essential to the operation here, Julio_ , and _I saw online a guest wanted to bring their own anti-gravity machine, can you tell me your stance on that?_ and _where, in your experience, would you place the guests you want to give a time out to? Uncle Tommy tends to get a little handsy, if ya catch my drift, Julio._

Betty had been forced to apologize a total of six times on his behalf and, once the painful experience had been over, had left him stranded in the middle of Manhattan to find his own way back.

(And, okay, it’s not like he didn’t _know_ how to get back, but the idea of it had made her feel just a little bit better.)

“Seriously,” she adds, her hand absentmindedly playing with the straw inside her tall, half-empty glass, “he’s the _worst_. Much worse than he was in high school. I mean, Christ, aren’t boys supposed to _mature_ over the years? Aren’t they supposed to get _less_ entitled and broody?”

“Hey, don’t look at me! I paid my dues to society and got over myself.” Kevin’s sitting across from her at the high-top table they’d managed to snag and he raises his arms defensively. “And, I mean, not that I’ve ever really said more than ten words to the kid, but isn’t broodiness kind of Jughead’s _thing_? You strip that away and the guy’s got no more identity. That doesn’t go away when you hit second puberty.”

Ethel lets out a snort. “Second puberty?”

“ _Yes_ , Ethel, second puberty.” Kevin looks between the two girls with a hint of overdramatic exasperation. “Look, guys go through two rounds of puberty. One,” he explains, holding up his fingers as he counts, “is regular puberty, when you get acne and you start getting taller and you learn when masturbation is and all that good stuff.” Promptly ignoring the faces the two girls make, he continues. “And the second is when you hit college and realize you’re no longer the top dog you thought you once were, and you’re forced to grow up again.”

Betty, rather unattractively, scoffs into her drink. “Maybe they don’t have that experience at NYU. Because, as far as I’m concerned, Jughead Jones is still a pre-pubescent little boy who needs to just _get over himself already_ —”

She pauses, taking in the wide, alarmed looks of her two companions, and furrows her eyebrows. “Okay, weirdos, why are you looking at me like I suddenly have two heads? Am I wrong? Neither of you have even _met_ the guy, so I don’t understand why—”

And then Kevin is coughing loudly, his head cast down, and Ethel’s shaking her head furiously, and Betty’s suddenly aware of a presence just behind her back.

“No, please, continue. I was thoroughly enjoying my character analysis. Maybe you should read my manuscript, see if there are any holes in my protagonist. He was kind of based off me, so maybe he’s a little too _entitled_ for his own good.”

_Shit._

Betty turns around slowly, a pained, forced smile on her face. “Didn’t see you there, Jughead. How are you?”

He’s ignoring her, his arms crossed in front of his chest, and Betty drops the act to wince. “Maybe I just didn’t get his ‘second puberty right,’” Jughead adds with a smile, and Betty gets the sense that he’s actually _enjoying_ this. “Y’know, since I haven’t experienced one myself.”

Betty’s face might be flushed, but she’s tired, annoyed, and just a _little_ bit drunk, so she shoots him a look she can only hope is intimidating. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be going over wedding plans or something?”

“Shouldn’t you?” He shoots back, looking _smug_ again, and Betty wants to hit him.

“I’m having a drink with my friends. I’m _relaxing_. You should try it sometime.”

 The thing is, Betty isn’t _so_ drunk that she doesn’t know full well that she’s in the wrong here. She knows she should be apologizing, but instead she’s feeling dignified. And, well, maybe it’s just her imagination, but Jughead’s looking at her with this gleam in his eye and, if Betty didn’t know any better, she’d say he was almost _impressed_.

“Can’t argue there.” Betty, not having expected a concession, just nods her head dumbly. “I’ll let you get back to your ‘relaxing’ then. Didn’t realize relaxing for scorned wedding planners included trash talking, but I’ll have to remember that for next time.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Sure you weren’t, Betty Cooper. I’ll see you at the caterer meeting next Thursday.”

And then, to her horror, Jughead Jones is _winking_ at her as he makes his way to the table, and Betty shoots daggers to his back. “Oh no,” she whispers to her friends, who have unreadable expressions on their faces. “There is _no way_ that—that _dud_ is getting the last word!”

Two seconds later, before anyone can properly process what’s happening and stop her, Betty stands up and yells towards his fleeting figure. “Not if I see you there first! And I am _not scorned!_ ” Then she sits back down, a scowl etched onto her face, and takes another loud sip from her drink. She doesn’t feel as satisfied as she thought she would have.

“Bastard,” she mumbles, her eyes glancing up to Kevin and Ethel.

“What?”

The two share a look and Betty feels frustration physically course through her body. “Guys, what? Why are you looking at each other like that?”

“Nothing,” Kevin sings in a rather unconvincing way. “It’s just that you could cut the UST back there with a knife.”

Betty’s brows furrow. “UST? What’s that?”

“Unresolved Sexual Tension,” Ethel offers with a snicker.

“ _What?_ You think there’s sexual tension between me and _Jughead?_ You guys are _actually_ crazy. We _hate_ each other.” And, okay, maybe hate’s kind of a strong term, but Betty doesn’t back down. She’s trying to make a point.

Kevin’s smirk only sends Betty reeling further. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” And, to her chagrin, Ethel laughs in agreement.

“Whatever, you guys are crazy. Not _only_ is he getting married, but I hate him,” she repeats, just for added measure. “Lets talk about something else, please.”

As the pair turns to each other to discuss the apparent UST further, Betty sulks back in her chair, unaware to the glances being thrown her way from across the bar by a man wearing a leather jacket.

 

 

 

 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woooo i did not expect to write this much, but here we are!
> 
> thank you so much for the wonderful feedback and comments on the last chapter! hopefully this dosage of bughead was enough to get you through.
> 
> if you get the feeling that something happened between betty and jughead in high school, then you would be correct! and if you're wondering what that might have been, you'll just have to wait and see. ;)
> 
> comments and feedback are the wind beneath my wings. (also, if someone wants to let me know the best way to find a beta, that would be grand. i just know there are some mistakes i'm missing!)


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